It's a Talent
by marisa lee
Summary: The evidence from last night's rendezvous hasn't entirely disappeared... one shot. Rated T for some slight sexual content.


**Title: It's a Talent**

**Rating: T**

**Pairing: Blues. Hey, that's new.**

**Prompt: My teenage angst drove me to write this, as well as my cousin's embarrassingly red spotted neck at the Christmas party a few days ago.**

**Words: 1,399**

**Summary: The evidence from last night's rendezvous hasn't entirely disappeared...**

**A/N: Alright, so maybe it's just me, but I'm getting sick and tired of these 'Boomer is a Frail Little Butterfly Boy' stories. Pardon my French, but bull sh*t he was! Just cuz he's Bubbles' counterpart doesn't mean he IS her. He's as much of a RowdyRuff as the other two. He's still evil. So this is a gentle reminder of that.**

**Happy New Year, you filthy animals. **

**I don't own The PowerPuff Girls or any affiliated parties. Enjoy. :)**

**xoxo ~ml**

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**It's a Talent**

Apparently, staring at it in the mirror for twenty straight minutes wasn't a very good way to get rid of it. And apparently, it didn't like to be covered up with makeup. In fact, it simply refused to go away, no matter what she tried. The frantic scrubbing had absolutely no effect. If anything, it made it worse. Pinching the skin around the blemish was laughable, giving the illusion of a slow and steady growth.

Bubbles was in a speechless, breathless, head-spinning panic. Half an hour until the party, and here she stood in front of her mirror with a gigantic hickey at the base of her neck. What to do, she had no idea. It wasn't exactly a hideable thing, taking up an egg-sized space on her skin right smack dab in the middle of her neck.

Her arms flew to her neck and in unison the door flew open, a whirlwind of pink making its presence known in the room.

"Bubbles, I can't find my—" Blossom's eyebrows shot into her hairline and the same stern, leader-like look immediately dominated her face.

"Coverup?" Bubbles tried meekly, holding up the tan bottle with one hand and a sheepish smile.

"What is /that/?!" the leader breathed, her hand cupping her mouth in awe.

"It's... ahem. Uh..."

"A _hickey_?!"

"I... I... I dunno, I—"

"_Bubbles!_"

"I didn't know he was doing it!" the blonde cried defensively. "I tried to stop him, but he already—"

"You shouldn't have given him the opportunity to do it in the first place!" Blossom hissed. She stepped forward and carefully removed her sister's hands from in front of the offending blemish.

"I promise it'll be gone in like ten minutes, Blossom, I just have to figure out how to get rid of it—"

"Get rid of what?" And that was how the third Puff rudely joined in on their sisters' conversation.

"Don't people knock anymore?" Bubbles cried helplessly.

"Hey, the door was open like an inch, so I thought—oh my god Bubbles."

"I know..." the latter moaned, hanging her head.

"That's sick." Both of Buttercup's sisters were quite surprised at her reaction. She stepped forward to have a closer look at the damage. "Nice job, that's a good one!"

"You're congratulating her?!" Blossom squeaked incredulously.

A shrug was her response. "Why not? S'about time the baby of the family had a little fun."

The 'baby of the family' promptly flushed a deep shade of pink.

"This is not something to be encouraged, Buttercup!" the eldest sister scolded.

"Jeez, alright, calm down, Red. Trust me, it's not even that big."

Blossom's face flushed almost as dark as the ribbon in her hair. "Not even that big?!" she repeated, the anger releasing itself in hiccups. "It's gigantic! It's like a baseball! There is no way that can be hidd—"

"Shut up, okay, I got this," Buttercup muttered, barely paying attention to her sisters' panic. She removed Bubbles' hands from her neck rather forcibly and tipped her chin into the light, recording the blemish into her memory.

"Since when are you such an expert on this?" Blossom asked skeptically. Buttercup simply shot her a look and rolled her eyes.

"No big deal," the middle sister said plainly. In an instant, she'd swiped the coverup out of Blossom's disbelieving hands and splashed it onto Bubbles' pale skin. "There. Wear something with a wide collar, just in case. Don't call attention to yourself. You'll be fine."

She tossed the coverup back to Blossom, who nearly dropped it, oblivious to Bubbles' gaping mouth, and waltzed out of the room as if this were an everyday occurrence for her.

The two remaining sisters stared at each other in silent awe, Bubbles not daring to touch the spot on her neck for fear she'd ruin Buttercup's magical handiwork.

The blemish was now barely noticeable, unless you tilted your head and looked very closely. But just in case, as Buttercup had suggested, she dressed herself in a bright white polo shirt with a thick collar and a pair of tight blue jeans that complimented her figure. She allowed herself a sigh of relief as she prepared to make her way downstairs for the party.

"Honestly," Blossom hissed in her ear, approaching her from behind as she descended the staircase. "Sometimes Buttercup is a pain in the you-know-what, but I don't know what you'd do without her."

Bubbles smiled kindly and rolled her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond, but her breath was promptly captured in her throat as someone stole her away from her sister and pressed her up against the wall.

She raised her eyes to look at the culprit, though she could easily recognize the familiar hands against her waist, sliding themselves up and down the curves of her body. His mouth found hers hotly, catching her bottom lip in between his teeth. She feebly tried to push him away with an embarrassed giggle.

"Boomer," she scolded, guiding his chest away from hers with her hands. A soft smile touched her bruising lips at the forlorn expression on her boyfriend's face.

"I missed you," he murmured into her ear, leaning in to kiss her neck.

"You just saw me like half an hour ago," she reminded him.

"That's too long." His hands found the small of her back and he forced her closer to him, locking his arms in place around her.

"Seriously, Boomer, I have company!" Bubbles tried again to push him away, but he refused to budge.

"They can watch."

She laughed, attempting one last shove to his chest before giving in. "That's so demented."

He kissed her once tenderly on the lips before calling his attention to the unfamiliar spot on her neck with a disbelieving laugh.

"Did I do this?"

She scoffed, her hands resting on his chest just below his shoulders. She played with his shirt in her fingers and refused to look him in the eye with the reply, "No, it was my other boyfriend."

"Hmm," he growled. "Well be sure to let him know he's got talent."

"I'll be sure to let him know he's newly single, too."

She felt his smirk against her lips as he kissed her again.

"You can't do that anymore," she scolded him softly. "At least not when there are going to be people around."

She knew he was sulking, but she held firm to her command. He kissed her once more before completely pulling away from her, having had his fix for now. She took his hand into hers and brought it to her mouth with a kiss and a smile.

"Would you guys stay away from each other for five and a half seconds to eat?" Blossom asked the couple, carrying a dish of mashed potatoes to the table.

Boomer shot Bubbles a secretive wink and replied, "I guess so."

The entire party meandered their way to the table, taking their seats and passing out dishes. They laughed and chatted mindlessly, almost completely oblivious to the two empty chairs at the head of the table.

Boomer rested his hand on Bubbles' knee beneath the table, and she smiled out of the corner of her mouth with a bite of her salad. She met his hand on her knee and squeezed it in hers.

A sharp vibrating pattern startled the fork out of Bubbles' hand and she flushed and reached for her cell phone.

_Buttercup: hey im gonna need to borrow that coverup real quick_

Boomer read the text over his girlfriend's shoulder and raised a questioning eyebrow as they both glanced towards the two empty seats at the head of the table.


End file.
